


It Never Rains in Southern California

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Happy anniversary, now can we please get out of the rain?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Rains in Southern California

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Charlie, Don, and _Numb3rs_ belong to Cheryl Heuton, Nicolas Falacci, and some people at CBS who aren't me.
> 
> Beta thanks to Iulia!
> 
> This story was first posted January 23, 2006.

Don was watching Charlie work--he'd been trying to tell himself about watched pots never boiling, but it had been nearly an hour since he'd run out of more productive things to do than to wait for the exact second Charlie finished his analysis. When Charlie looked up, he met Don's eyes right away and said, "I need to go back to the crime scene."

Don glanced at the clock--10:27 pm--and then toward the distant windows. It had already been dark for hours. "Now?"

Charlie said, "Do you want to catch him now?"

* * *

It was a little disturbing to see Charlie standing there in the shadow between streetlights, one stride off the sidewalk, right where the victim had been when he was shot. Don stood a few feet away, trying to watch all the lines of sight that converged on Charlie.

The rain started all at once: one moment they were standing there looking around on a cool dry night, and the next they were drenched. Don wrapped his arms around himself, looking around for the nearest doorway to duck into, and when he looked back to Charlie, Charlie hadn't moved. He was still standing there, staring into space, like he hadn't even noticed the rain pouring down. "Charlie!" Don shouted over the sound. "_Charlie_!"

When Charlie didn't respond, Don closed the distance between them and grabbed his shoulder. Charlie looked over at him, frowning, and then up into the rain. Don tugged, but Charlie stood his ground, staring up into the sky, and then said, "It's been a year, hasn't it."

Don let go of Charlie to wipe water from his eyes, shaking his head. "What?"

Charlie looked down, meeting his eyes. "It's been a year!" he yelled, as though the problem was that Don couldn't _hear_ him. Don shook his head again, and Charlie finally seemed to realize that he wasn't making any sense. "Since I started working with you! It was raining the night I figured out that we needed two hot zones."

Hot zones: the LA rapist case. "Yeah, okay," Don said, "Happy anniversary, now can we please get out of the rain?"

Charlie grinned at him, bright as daylight, and nodded. Don shook his head as he smiled back, and turned away to lead him to the car.

* * *

"I'll have to go back," Charlie said as he buckled himself in. "When the rain stops. I couldn't make all the observations I needed."

"Right," Don said, pulling out. "We should probably go dry off, change clothes." They'd been running more than thirty-six hours straight already: they were both going to be useless soon if they didn't get a little sleep, and this was the closest thing to a lull they'd hit so far. And if Megan's profile was right, the murder was a one-off, and there wasn't much harm in them letting the case alone for a few hours.

"Your place is closer," Charlie said, too casually.

Don looked over at him. "You mean, 'the furnace is on the fritz again and I want to go somewhere where I don't have to deal with it?'"

Charlie stared out the window, but Don could hear the smile in his voice. "I didn't say that! I said, your place is closer. So we can get back to the crime scene as quickly as possible when the rain stops. So we can catch the killer."

"So you can let _Dad_ deal with the furnace," Don translated, but he headed toward his apartment anyway. If they didn't go home, they wouldn't have to talk about the case, or explain why they were leaving again, or take turns in the shower.

* * *

When Don turned away from locking the door, Charlie was standing on one foot, trying to undo the soaked knots in his shoelaces. Don reached out one hand to steady him, and Charlie looked up just long enough to flash him a smile, then yanked his shoe off. Don let go once he got the second one off, and turned to untying his boots as Charlie squelched off into the darkness of Don's apartment in his wet socks.

Don followed the single light Charlie turned on, and found him in the laundry closet, tossing his clothes into the dryer as he stripped. Don joined him in the pool of light, watching Charlie undress as Charlie watched him, to be sure they didn't bang elbows or heads in the tight space. When Don set his belt down on top of the washing machine and started emptying his pockets, Charlie reached into the dryer and pulled out his own jeans, rescuing two sodden pieces of paper folded up small, a mechanical pencil, a bottle cap, and a rubber band.

When Charlie was naked, he turned away, reaching up to the shelf for the dryer sheets. Don watched him stretch as he took off his own shorts and socks, feeling warmed up already by the play of muscle in Charlie's shoulders and the flex of his ass. Charlie tossed in the dryer sheet after Don's socks, and Don shut the door and turned on the dryer.

Charlie's nipples were hard with cold, his hair plastered to his head and goosebumps standing up all over his arms, right up to his shoulders. Don leaned in and kissed him lightly, running his hands over Charlie's arms, and said, "What do you want? Shower? Bed?"

Not that it was so much a question of one or the other as which first, but if he told Charlie that, Charlie would argue. Don had tried before to convince Charlie that the law of diminishing returns applied to math and sleep, even in homicide investigations, to no avail. Charlie ducked his head, thinking it over as Don ran his palm down the groove of Charlie's spine. Charlie shivered, shedding chilly drops of water from his hair onto Don's skin, and Don pulled Charlie closer.

Charlie turned his head up and kissed Don's mouth, his hand skimming down Don's back to palm the curve of his ass. He said, "You," smiling sheepishly, like Don didn't want the same, like they weren't standing here together naked.

Don smiled back. "Well, I wasn't offering to _leave_," he murmured.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I want to fuck," he clarified, and it never ceased to surprise Don how Charlie didn't hesitate before four-letter words. Don still did, a little, in Charlie's presence. Less now. Charlie looked away, touching his forehead to Don's cheek. "Just--if we're in bed, I'll fall asleep after, and..."

Don smiled, partly because Charlie hadn't said _your_ bed, and partly because he'd known Charlie would say that. "How about the couch, that work for you? Because there's the kitchen floor, but even with the heat on it's not--"

Charlie shoved at Don's shoulder hard enough to shut him up, but let Don catch his mouth in a kiss as he leaned over to shut off the light. "The couch," Charlie said, still pushing, still kissing, as they stumbled together out into the kitchen. "The couch will be--"

Don sunk his fingers into Charlie's hair and Charlie's mouth opened under his, hot and hungry while Charlie's hair was cold and silky-wet, tangling around his fingers. Charlie's hands ran restlessly over Don's arms, pausing at irregular intervals to trace shapes on Don's skin. Don thought--again--that someday he would manage to pay enough attention when Charlie did that to figure out what he was writing. But for now he was distracted. The tickle of Charlie's fingers against his skin sent his blood racing, and Charlie was hard against his thigh, a hot steady pressure.

Don groaned against Charlie's mouth, thrusting lightly against the smooth skin of Charlie's hip. It had been more than a week since they'd had any real time alone, and the kitchen floor was starting to sound all right. Don ground harder against Charlie, his hand on Charlie's ass to pull him closer, and Charlie made a startled sound against his mouth and pushed away.

"Couch," Charlie repeated thickly, and turned away toward the living room. Don headed in the opposite direction, retrieving a condom and the bottle of lube from the bedside table.

When he got into the living room, Charlie was standing by one of the windows, leaning his head against the wall like he was trying to peek through the gap at the edge of the blinds without risking being seen. Streetlights leaking in showed his face in blue and gray. He wasn't smiling. Don dropped the stuff on the coffee table and went to stand behind him, sliding his arms around Charlie's chest, flattening his palms against Charlie's ribs. "You can open them, you know," he murmured in Charlie's ear. "There's a tree, nobody can see in."

Charlie shrugged, his shoulder blades hard against Don's chest. "I just wanted to open the window, so we could hear when the rain stopped. Listen."

Don listened to the steady drumming of the rain, settling his chin on Charlie's shoulder, rocking his hips against Charlie's ass. Charlie pushed back against him, making a low noise in his throat, pressing his head against the wall and still staring at the window, at nothing. Don reached past him to open the blinds, slanting them down--in case there was anybody in that tree--but leaving enough space to let in the streetlights. It was enough light to show him his own hands, sliding down Charlie's belly to his dick.

Charlie twitched and tensed as Don's hand closed on his cock, and Don kissed him from his shoulder to the back of his neck, easing him through the moment when his brain and body suddenly completely coincided. When Don licked the nape of Charlie's neck, he didn't taste like anything, not even sweat, and his hair smelled like rain. Don had learned not to let his teeth close on Charlie's skin. Charlie bruised easily, and he was good at keeping secrets but an unpredictably mediocre liar.

Charlie's breath turned to gasps as Don stroked him, and Charlie's ass thrust back against his dick erratically. There was a breeze now, with the blinds open, cool against the backs of his hands, Charlie's skin hot against his palms. Charlie's body shielded him, but Don could feel Charlie shivering. Don forced his hand still, and transferred his grip to Charlie's wrist. "Come on," Don said in his ear, "on the couch."

Charlie went where Don pointed him, knelt on the cushions and then looked up at Don. They'd never had sex on the couch on purpose before, just made out in front of baseball games and failed to make it to the bed before they had their hands down each other's pants. Don said, "Lie down," but Charlie started to turn face down. It was easier to catch Charlie by the shoulder and hip and move him than to say what he wanted, and he didn't want to spend a second not touching Charlie.

Don pressed him down to the cushions, face up, leaning in for just one--two--three quick kisses. Charlie tucked an arm behind his head as Don pushed away, and let one leg dangle off the couch. It was almost dark, and quiet. There was just the white noise of the rain, the low hum of appliances and the heat kicking on because somebody had opened a window and let the cold air in. Don had to feel across the coffee table to distinguish the lube and condoms from remote controls and CD cases and a cell phone charger. Charlie's eyes were shadows, but Don was pretty sure Charlie was watching him as he knelt in the space between the couch and the coffee table.

Don walked his left hand up Charlie's leg, from his knee where it rested against the coffee table to the pale skin of his thigh to his cock. Charlie's breath stuttered when Don trailed his thumb along its length, and gasped his name when Don traced the same line with his tongue. Charlie's dick tasted like Charlie, at least, like sex and sweat and skin, hot and heavy against Don's tongue. Don curled his left hand around the base of Charlie's cock, stroking him lightly as he fumbled the lube open one-handed and slicked his fingers. He might have been faster about it if he'd watched what he was doing, but Charlie's head was tipped back, showing Don the long line of his throat striped in light and shadow, and Don couldn't look away.

He kept his gaze fixed as he lowered his mouth to Charlie's cock, sliding his right hand down between Charlie's legs. He exhaled against Charlie's cock and trailed a slick finger down Charlie's balls, and Charlie made a strangled, startled sound as his head jerked up. Don smiled at Charlie--one visible eye wide, the other lost in shadow, just a glint of light reflecting off the white--and parted his lips, taking Charlie into his mouth as he pressed his finger into the heat of Charlie's body. Charlie's mouth opened and closed without a sound as Don sucked him, working his finger deeper. Charlie's hand landed on his face and Don closed his eyes as Charlie's fingers traced over his eyes, down his cheek. He crooked his finger and Charlie's hips jerked, thrusting into his mouth, pushing back against his hand.

Charlie's fingers slid into his hair as Don worked another finger into Charlie's ass, twisting and pushing deeper as he swallowed around Charlie's cock. Charlie was writhing continuously between Don's fingers and his mouth, making broken breathless noises that went straight to Don's cock. Don felt the tension in Charlie's thigh and his ass a second before Charlie's fingers tightened in his hair, and Charlie gasped, "Don, stop, _stop_."

Don pulled his mouth off quickly, easing his fingers from Charlie's ass as he gave him a last teasing lick. He wiped his hand on Charlie's thigh, and Charlie's panting for breath was interrupted by a hitch of laughter, and a twitch of his foot that might have been meant as a kick. Don ripped open a condom and rolled it on, listening to Charlie's quick, harsh breathing, readying himself with shaking hands. When Don looked up, Charlie had his other leg raised, his heel on the back of the couch and his knee bent back, his hips canted up. Waiting, watching.

Don moved up onto the couch without taking his eyes off Charlie's face, settling himself between Charlie's thighs by feel. Charlie's body was as familiar to him now as anyone's had ever been: more, maybe. He'd never fucked somebody he'd wrestled with until Charlie. He guided his dick to Charlie's ass with one hand, holding himself over Charlie with the other, and Charlie's eyes fluttered shut as Don pushed inside, flashing open again when Don hit his sweet spot. Charlie grinned suddenly, and Don grinned back, because this was dangerous and stupid and _insane_, but fuck, it was fun.

Charlie was slick and hot and tight around him, and Don moved slowly, in deep and back out and in again. He stayed just enough off-rhythm that every thrust caught Charlie by surprise, made him jerk up in answer. Then Charlie moved, curling his legs around Don's hips and hauling him down as he snapped his hips up, slamming Don deep and hard enough to make him gasp. He couldn't move far, with Charlie holding him there, and fucked Charlie in fast short movements until Charlie arched under him, his ass tightening around Don as he came.

After that Charlie let Don go slow again, loosening his legs and raising one arm to hook around his neck. Don moved slowly and steadily in Charlie, leaning down for a kiss, a lick, a breath exchanged, always watching Charlie's eyes, always pushing closer. Charlie's arm slid down, so that his hand cupped the back of Don's neck, and his fingers were moving over Don's skin again in some pattern he almost thought he could recognize. But Charlie's tongue pushed soft and hot into his mouth, and Charlie tightened around him, and he thrust one last time into Charlie and came, still not knowing.

Don let himself fall against Charlie for the space of a few breaths, but when Charlie squirmed in the way that meant he couldn't really breathe or feel his legs, Don rolled off him. He got rid of the condom and thought about going to wash up, but Charlie was lying still on the couch, and Don knew that if he got up, so would Charlie. He laid back down instead, squeezing into the nonexistent space between Charlie and the back of the couch, and pulling Charlie half on top of him so he wouldn't fall off.

Charlie lay against him for a moment and then tensed, lifting his head. "We should--"

"No," Don said, tightening his grip. "Shh. Listen."

Charlie turned his head, listening with all his might, and then went still, laying his head back down beside Don's. Don felt him relax, slipping fast toward sleep, and closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the rain still pouring down.


End file.
